an ocean with blindfolded lovers
by ninjaextraordinaire
Summary: nine/rose, ten/rose. "It's like someone taking your chocolate bar and dumping carrot cake in your open palm, promising it'll taste the same."


**a/n**: i barely started this show a couple of weeks ago, and i can safely guarantee it's becoming one of my favorites. i love each and every single incarnation of the doctor, but the interaction between rose and the ninth doctor is what really had me melting into a puddle of goo. too early to tell what my otp for this show is, but these two are definitely up there. circa early season 2. story title comes from _sky's still blue_ by andrew belle.

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**an ocean with blindfolded lovers**

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She'd be lying if she said a small, tucked away part of her didn't wish that The Doctor had never regenerated.

He tells her the story whenever she asks, an easy smirk gracing his features as he drapes his arm around her shoulders and recounts how she'd become the Bad Wolf, how she'd consumed all that energy to save the world, and how he willingly relieved her of that all-powerful knowledge with a kiss, knowing full well the consequences of his actions.

That's usually the part where her eyes glimmer with unshed tears and she glances up at him through a fringe of dark eyelashes, guilt settling in the pit of her stomach when she envisions pale blue eyes and an endearingly large nose peering back at her.

She left her life as she knew it behind for an endless stream of adventures with that face, so sarcastic and eccentric and wildly attractive that she had to restrain from fanning herself whenever he got too near. She's not complaining about his sharper nose and unruly sexy hair that sticks up in all directions, but it's quite difficult to wrap her head around the fact that the Doctor she fell in complete, unequivocal, incorrigible love with is the same man that's looking at her with a mixture of sympathy and worry swimming in his gaze.

She snorts.

Cybermen and werewolves trying to munch on Queen Victoria she can accept, but a simple fact is what sends her mind in a tizzy.

She gently extricates herself from his embrace, running hands over her bare arms. She swallows down the resentment that threatens to spew out in the form of angry tears and hateful words.

It's hard to look at him and see the man that traveled back in time to make sure her father didn't die alone, the man who purposely referred to Mickey as Ricky due to a sullen jealousy neither of them dared to bring up, the man who always latched onto her hand to keep her safe at his side, whether they were battling an entire alien population from taking over the world or running around the corner to grab some chips and pop.

It's like someone taking your chocolate bar and dumping carrot cake in your open palm, promising it'll taste the same. Ugh, now she's hungry; that probably wasn't the best analogy to use.

Rose sighs.

Sensing her discomfort, The Doctor comes up behind her, setting a hand on her shoulder and giving it an affectionate squeeze. He can't well say he fully understands her thought process at the moment; always the regenerated, he can't fathom the confusion that encircles his companion's head.

He tries not to let it upset him too much, hoping that Rose will someday understand that he's still the man that'd travel through every time rift and Dalek spaceship if it meant keeping her safe, albeit with new facial features and a new (better, if you ask him) sense of style.

He approaches the TARDIS's dashboard of machinery, decipherable to nothing else but his own eyes, fingers skimming over the various glittering buttons in a fond caress. Behind him, he hears Rose giggle, and he wouldn't be able to keep the returning smile off his face if he'd tried.

"Care to share with the rest of the class, Ms. Tyler?"

She has her hand to her lips in a failing attempt to stifle her laughter, cheeks flushed from the humor of a situation unbeknownst to him. There are very few things that The Doctor doesn't know, so the fact that this twenty-year old is standing before him, clutching at her ribs for a gasp of air because of something he can't identify is starting to eat away at his sanity as the seconds tick by.

By the time she's done, he's looking at her with wild eyes and frazzled hair, looking for all the world like a gust of wind would knock him on his back, and Rose isn't kidding when she says that it takes every ounce of willpower within her body not to burst out in another uncontrollable fit of laughter.

"It's just that Sarah and I found the fact that you constantly stroke the TARDIS like it's-"

"She."

She blinks. "Pardon?"

"You referred to her as 'it.'" he tsks, walking over to run a hand along one of the side panels, pouting at the metal. "We don't like that do we, dear?"

Shaking her head at this man and his infinite quirks, she goes and sits on the seats in front of the control board with a sigh. Within five seconds, there he is, seated next to her, absentmindedly playing with a stray curl like he's done ever since the first night she agreed to spending the rest of her foreseeable life as his sidekick.

Lacking the incentive not to, she leans into his side, resting her head against his shoulder. It's bonier than before, his body leaner and taller, but she can't find it within herself to care.

"Where do you want to go next? The world is at your disposal, Rose Tyler."

She smiles, taking a moment to dig up a desire she thought was long gone, from when she thought boys were gross and aliens weren't real and she'd grow up without her mom badgering at her all the while. "Somewhere sunny, where I can bury my toes in the sand and take a break from Slitheens and centuries-old skin by the name of Cassandra, and any other sort of alien form for a long, _long_ while."

He raises his eyebrows so high up they almost reach his hairline. "So no aliens allowed then?"

She purses her lips, the uneasiness leaving her system just by being near him, and she doesn't fail to realize that seemed to stay the same, even when his face didn't. She gives him a secretive smirk, playfully tugging at the collar of his suit-jacket.

"Hmm, if you play your cards right, Doctor, I'm sure I could be inclined to extend the invitation to Time Lords."

He grins, and there's a twinkle of mischief and adventure in his warm brown eyes that reminds her of the same gleam in a pair of blue ones, hastily looking back as she was being dragged through a multitude of hallways, away from the grappling arms of deadly mannequins that has her smiling back with an equal amount of fervor.

"Fan_tas_tic."


End file.
